


Reign of the Disgraced

by Toomanyfandoms99



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Future Fic, Oneshot, Resurrection, Time Travel, too much to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:33:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18383852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Ned Stark didn’t remember a single thing from the afterlife.All he knew was this: his head was severed from his body, and he just felt the jolt of unbearable pain slice through his nerve endings when he was dead.And then, he was alive again.





	Reign of the Disgraced

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy this headcanon!

Ned Stark didn’t remember a single thing from the afterlife.

All he knew was this: his head was severed from his body, and he just felt the jolt of unbearable pain slice through his nerve endings when he was dead.

And then, he was alive again.

He awoke in the forest, the sun shining through the tall trees. It was still summer, and there was no snow.

He was not in the North. He was south.

Why would the gods leave him where he died? Why not bring him to the crypts of Winterfell?

A figure ran through the trees. A curtain of auburn hair stumbled warily. An aged woman with a red dress met his eyes, and nearly fainted.

“Ned?!”

Ned jumped to his feet, his vision sharpening. “Catelyn!”

His wife rushed to him, nearly tripping over a fallen tree trunk and embracing him tightly. 

“By the gods,” Catelyn said, “something strange has happened. You can’t be real.”

“I feel real,” Ned said numbly. “Do you know where we are?”

“Talisa!” A faraway voice exclaimed, startling several birds nesting in nearby trees. They took flight, their wings taking them elsewhere with furious flaps.

Catelyn stiffened in Ned’s arms, her mouth agape. “That sounds like Robb.”

“You’re right,” Ned whispered incredulously.

Catelyn took flight like the birds, running in the direction of the voice. “ROBB!”

Ned kept pace with his wife’s fast feet, hopping over branches and dashing between low-hanging leaves.

A clearing sprawled out before them, two figures embracing in the middle of it. They rocked together, a woman Ned didn’t recognize weeping in his eldest son’s arms.

Robb had grown since Ned last saw him. More auburn curls sprung wildly about his face, his body having gained more muscle than Ned himself had. He was swathed in the light furs of the North, a wolf’s pelt cast about his shoulders. He held the woman like he would a lover, and Ned felt more conflicted than ever.

As he turned to ask Catelyn about all he had missed, she had reached them, pausing a foot away. The woman turned her face away from Robb’s shoulder, tears glistening in her eyes even from afar. Robb looked at his mother with disbelieving eyes, allowing Catelyn to embrace him. The woman stepped back respectfully and allowed mother and son this moment to themselves.

Ned decided to stride closer, and heard Catelyn say his name to Robb. Both the woman and Robb noticed him at the same time, and Robb pulled away from Catelyn.

Robb was in his arms, suddenly, murmuring, “by the gods, Father. It’s you.”

“Robb,” Ned said reedily, “tell me what’s happened.”

Robb sniffled, pulling back and looking at the women behind them. Catelyn nodded, and the other woman sent him a look of encouragement. Robb beckoned for the woman, and she approached, Robb casting an arm around her.

“This,” Robb said, “is my wife, Talisa Maegyr.”

“Maegyr,” Ned searched his mind, “of Volantis?”

“Yes, sir,” Talisa said with a head incline.

“Mother promised me,” Robb said, “to one of Walder Frey’s daughters. I fell in love with Talisa, and I broke the promise by wedding her. As punishment,” Robb looked warily at the two women, “the three of us were killed.”

“And now we are here,” Catelyn added. “This must be further punishment from the gods.”

“I would not be here if that were true,” Ned countered.

“Where are we?” Robb asked dazedly. “It cannot be the afterlife.”

“We should find a path,” Ned suggested. “We can figure out where we are from there.”

————

“Father?” A small voice asked.

Jon smiled, setting down his feathered quill, the ink blotting on the edge of the scroll. He looked down from his place at the desk, a halo of long white hair and a pink nightgown peering up at him.

“Rhaella, darling,” Jon said warily, “can you not sleep?”

The girl of five years shook her head in affirmation. Her violet eyes were tinted gray by the candlelight, and Jon held out his arms, lifting her onto his lap. Jon welcomed the distraction, as writing letters was a tedious chore that his wife excelled at, like she did at everything else. Jon brushed back the curtains of Targaryen hair that framed his eldest child’s face, allowing her hesitant smile to shine through.

“My sweet child,” Jon mused, “would you like to hear a story before I tell your mother?”

Rhaella blushed and giggled, then nodded her head. “Tell me about the first time you saw mother’s dragons.”

“I’ve told you several times,” Jon said amusedly, “I was so frightened I dropped to the ground. It was an intimidation tactic.”

Rhaella giggled.

Jon sighed. “I’ll carry you to bed, little queen. We won’t tell your mother.”

“Tell me what?”

Rhaella hid her face in Jon’s collarbone as Daenerys entered, their son Daeron on her hip. His wife wore a silk Essos nightgown, pearly pink in the candlelight. With the small bump protruding from her stomach, the length reached her mid-thigh rather than her knees. Her hair, out of its complex system of braids, fell to the small of her back in loose waves. Jon was struck then by how young they truly were, and how Daenerys never seemed to age despite all that happened between them.

“Nothing, Dany,” Jon said convincingly. “I was just taking Rhae back to bed.”

Daenerys looked at the young boy on her hip, brushing unruly black curls from his forehead. “Daeron is quite fussy tonight as well. They must have been up to some mischief.”

Since Daeron was still struggling to string words together, he smiled toothily. Rhaella remained silent too, and Jon rose from his chair, taking his daughter with him. Rhaella kept her arms tossed around Jon’s neck for support.

Jon brought Rhaella to the doorway, walking alongside Daenerys holding Daeron. Jon glimpsed at Rhaella pressing a kiss to Daeron’s fat cheeks, the boy grinning at the affection. Jon caught Daenerys’ gaze, and they smiled as they reached Daeron’s room.

Jon waited with Rhaella outside the room and Daenerys carefully placed Daeron on his new bed. She tucked him in and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Jon heard Daenerys murmur, “good night, my sweet boy,” before standing and leaving the room.

Daenerys joined Jon in taking Rhaella to her room. Jon set Rhaella down on her bed, and Daenerys watched Jon tuck her in.

“Be a good girl, now,” Jon said. “Sweet dreams.”

Daenerys kissed Rhaella’s forehead and followed Jon out of the bedroom.

When they were in the hall, Jon took Daenerys’ hand. As he lead her to their bedroom, Tyrion entered the hall.

Tyrion regarded the couple with a curious raised eyebrow. “It’s late, Your Highnesses.”

“We know, Tyrion,” Jon said warily. “The children were restless.”

Tyrion said cautiously, “it is important that the Queen rests.” He inclined his head towards Daenerys. “I mean that most respectfully, as your Hand, my Queen.”

As if reminded of her condition, Daenerys placed her palm against her stomach. “I understand, Tyrion. We are going to bed.”

“Sweet dreams,” Tyrion said, taking his leave and drinking wine from a goblet that appeared out of nowhere.

Jon merely blinked at the normal behavior and lead Daenerys inside their bedroom. She walked over to the burning candle at their bedside and said, “you do not have to write letters every night. It can wait, if need be.”

“I know,” Jon said, slipping off his royal clothing. Since he wasn’t one for fancy adornments, he commissioned them to be as Stark-like as possible. 

He heard the sheets rustle as Daenerys slipped into them. Jon pulled on loose nightclothes, blowing out the candle at their bedside. He untied his hair from its tight confines, allowing his curls to frame his face. He went to his side of the bed, only to have Daenerys pounce, lying herself on top of him.

Her curtains of hair covered her cheeks as she leaned down with a smile. “How was your day, tih khal?”

Jon flushed, despite used to his wife’s Dothraki endearments. He didn’t feel like a king until Daenerys spoke to him in tongues this way.

Jon replied, “I finally got a raven to Arya’s location. She replied she will return to King’s Landing. She has news.”

Daenerys smiled knowingly. “That means she is pregnant.”

Jon snorted. “My little sister does not want children.”

“She is married. That could have changed. She completely adores Gendry. The only man she’s ever been soft around.”

“Besides me,” Jon countered.

“Besides you,” Daenerys amended. “Arya could have changed her mind.”

“Sansa has not.”

“That’s different.”

Jon sighed. “I would rather not get into it. So long as Sansa remains Lady of Winterfell, heirs will not be an issue yet.”

“Speaking of heirs,” Daenerys shifted atop Jon, her hand pressing against her round stomach, “what are you hoping for?”

“As many daughters as you could give me,” Jon replied truthfully.

Daenerys smiled wanly. “No more sons as rightful heirs?”

“We changed that law,” Jon said, “so I would prefer Rhae to be the first rightful heir, and more clever daughters to rule the Seven Kingdoms.”

“How flattering,” Daenerys said demurely.

“I try, Dany,” Jon murmured, reaching his hand out hesitantly. Daenerys grasped it and placed it on her stomach. Her cheeks tinged a rosy pink as Jon touched the fabric with care, awestruck at the life growing inside her.

“I was thinking of naming her Lyanna,” Daenerys said.

“There’s already Lady Lyanna Mormont,” Jon said softly.

“There can be more than one. Just think about it,” Daenerys said quietly.

“Yes, my Queen. Now rest.”

Daenerys leaned down and kissed Jon. Then, she laid by his side, resting her cheek on his collarbone.

They fell asleep quickly.

————

“What’s your poison?” Ser Davos Seaworth asked his guest.

The redheaded king grinned like a madman. “Any poison will do.”

Davos motioned for the bartender and got two giant glasses of mead poured for them.

“A good choice,” Tormund Giantsbane said. “My visit here will get on just fine.”

The duo clinked their glasses together.

“Are you still facing Brienne’s rejection?” Davos asked lightly. “Is that why you travelled south?”

“Eh,” Tormund waved a hand dismissively, “it is something I am used to. I just did not expect her to vouch for Ser Jaime, of all the sods in Westeros.” He shrugged. “But the heart wants what it wants.”

“How very wise of you,” a droll voice said, taking up a seat beside them. “You should write that down.”

Davos’ eyebrow shot up. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, Tyrion?”

“You know me better than that.” Tyrion brought a cask of red wine out of nowhere, a glass taking its place on the table.

Tormund grinned. “No wonder I like you.”

As Tyrion poured out wine for himself, Davos remarked, “what an odd group we make, huh?”

“But we are all drunkards,” Tyrion raised his glass, “and that’s what connects us.”

Tormund laughed and drank down the mead.

A man that only one of them recognized took up the seat nearest to them. He tried to remain inconspicuous, but Davos couldn’t help but look.

He wore brown leather, the colors of the Stark household. His hair was light brown, tied back in a bun much like Jon’s. Loose wisps fell around his face, his harsh features typical of a Northerner. He seemed highborn, but as Hand of the King, Davos knew all the highborn nobles left alive in Westeros.

“By the gods,” Tyrion uttered, staring wide-eyed at the man, “I must be really drunk.”

Tormund pinched his eyebrows in confusion.

Davos mouthed to Tyrion, “you know him?”

Tyrion’s eyes widened further. He whispered, “you see him too?”

“I am just as confused as you, Tyrion.”

Three heads snapped towards the unknown man.

“By the gods,” Tyrion said, “it is you.”

“Obviously I have questions,” the man said. “We should find somewhere to talk.”

“You should come,” Tyrion said to Davos.

Davos shrugged. “I suppose duty calls, Tormund. Try not to get into too much trouble.”

“Trouble? Me?” Tormund grinned wildly.

Tyrion and Davos chose to follow the man.

————

“Tyrion,” Davos said as they found a private room near an inn, “tell me who he is.”

“My name,” the man said, sitting across from the two at the table, “is Ned Stark.”

Davos looked at Tyrion. Tyrion looked right back.

“By the gods,” Davos said incredulously, “that was why you kept saying ‘by the gods.’” He inclined his head. “I’m Ser Davos Seaworth, Hand of the King.”

“How are you here?” Tyrion asked.

“I wish I knew,” Ned said. “It’s not just me who came back.”

“The dead rising,” Tyrion said, “is not a good sign.”

“But we are not bad people,” Ned said. “Are you saying my wife, Robb, and his wife are bad people?”

Tyrion’s eyes widened. “No...but why you four?”

Ned shrugged. “We woke up in the forest. We don’t know.”

“Could it be...a gift?” Davos suggested.

“From the gods?” Tyrion thought. “Perhaps.”

“Can we table this?” Davos asked gruffly. “I think...Ned...wants to know what’s happened.”

“For the longest time,” Ned said, “I thought we were in the past. But seeing you have aged, Tyrion, means I must have arrived in a new world. What’s happened here?”

“Gods,” Tyrion sighed, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Tell me what happened from your point of view. It is all I ask,” Ned said.

“You better drink up,” Tyrion said. “It’s going to be...difficult to comprehend.”

“First,” Davos asked, “do you know who the king and queen are?”

Ned shook his head.

“This may come as a shock,” Tyrion said cautiously, “but Targaryens are back on the throne.”

Ned blinked. “The Rebellion was for nothing,” he said gravely.

“Oh,” Tyrion said amusedly, “the King and Queen aren’t so bad. You raised the King yourself.”

Ned reacted the opposite way Davos and Tyrion expected.

He didn’t react at all.

He batted his eyes and said, “Jon knows, huh?”

That caused Tyrion to have an epiphany. “You hid him! All along, you hid him in plain sight!” Tyrion grinned. “You’re cleverer than I thought.”

“He’s the King, eh?” Ned shrugged. “I can live with that.”

“He’s the best man in Westeros,” Davos said, “and I am proud to be his Hand.”

“And the Queen?” Ned asked.

“I am Hand to Queen Daenerys Targaryen,” Tyrion said.

Ned’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Calm down,” Tyrion laughed, “she is nothing like any other Targaryen before her. She is the best Queen Westeros has ever had.”

“So the cycle of marrying within the Targaryen family bloodline continues,” Ned said.

Tyrion’s eyes glittered. “They didn’t know that beforehand.”

Ned’s eyebrows pinched together. “Are you telling me she loved him as a Snow?”

“Indeed,” Tyrion said. “The discovery of Jon’s parentage was...strange, for both of them. It did not change anything between them, though. They just may be one of the rare couples here that married for love, as complicated as that may sound.”

“What else can you tell me?”

“Got all night?” Tyrion prompted.

“That’s how long it will take,” Davos said honestly.

“Can I call them over?” Ned asked.

Tyrion caught on easily. “Fine.”

A young man and two women, one old and one young, approached the group.

“My son Robb,” Ned gestured to the young man, “his wife Talisa,” the young woman inclined her head, “and my wife, Catelyn.”

The older woman’s eyes pierced into Tyrion. “I’m surprised you’re still here to tell the tale.”

Tyrion smiled kindly. “Me too, Lady Stark.”

Davos introduced himself to the guests.

Tyrion began. “I suppose our troubles all began when Ned died. Good men started to die with him, and this allowed my sister the chance she desperately wanted to rule. Cersei faced many tragedies, the death of her children being the tipping point. She became,” Tyrion paused, “the Mad Queen.”

“It’s not just Targaryens that can go mad,” Davos said pointedly.”

“Even my brother Jaime ran away from her in disgust,” Tyrion said. “While my sister was wreaking havoc, I was in Essos with Daenerys Targaryen, who was already proving to be a better ruler than any I had seen in my lifetime. I know I may seem traitorous, but my family was killing themselves. I aligned myself with her and became her Hand, giving her as much information about Westeros as I could. Daenerys had already begun gathering an army, and I stayed by her side through it all. It became clear to me that she had been through a terrible childhood, and every inch of power she gained was through her own merits. The people love her, even still.”

“Enough poetics,” Davos interjected humorously.

Tyrion continued, “I followed Daenerys to Dragonstone, and found myself soon reacquainted with the King in the North.” He looked at the family pointedly. “Jon Snow. He brought Davos as his Hand with him.” He gestured to Davos. “Since I was already very fond of Jon, I was glad to see him. He told me about what I had missed while in Essos. The most important thing you should know is that Winterfell was conquered by the Bolton family. Jon and Sansa formed alliances together and took back the castle. It was apparently a fight for the ages. That was when the people voted Jon as King in the North. Now here comes the part you most certainly will not believe.”

“I back him up,” Davos said gruffly.

“Jon decided to form an alliance with Daenerys because,” Tyrion paused, “White Walkers are real.”

“The myth about men rising from the dead?” Ned scoffed. “Please.”

“The myth is true,” Davos said, “and it all happened.” 

“Men rose from the dead beyond the Wall. Jon saw and fought them. He was the only survivor, and they made him Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch for it. But that’s a story Jon can tell you. White Walkers began to march, gathering their numbers for years in secret. They had a King, and a dragon, and the strongest dead men long buried and forgotten. They destroyed the Wall. They destroyed Winterfell. They ruined the North before they were stopped. They brought the Long Night. We survived, while the other half died brutally. We picked up the pieces, and kept the south intact.” Tyrion smiled wanly at Davos. “Jon came up with a term to describe our new world. What was it?”

Davos replied, “the Reign of the Disgraced.”

Tyrion grinned. “Yeah. I like that. And that’s the best way to label it.” He looked at the foursome around them. “The disgraces were all that was left. We rebuilt Westeros, and it’s finally, dare I say it, at peace. That’s why I’m so shocked at the reappearance of some dead Starks.”

“It doesn’t seem like a trick, or a trap,” Davos said thoughtfully. “When I was Hand for the Baratheons, I was taught to smell traps.”

“Baratheon?” Ned asked incredulously. “That’s how I know you. You’re the Onion Knight!”

“Formerly,” Davos corrected. “The only title I care for is Hand of the King. I know it’s already been said, but your nephew is by far the best man I know.”

“Nephew?” Catelyn asked.

“Oh,” Ned said, “don’t be mad, but Jon is kind of my sister’s son.”

“What?!” Robb exclaimed. “We’re cousins?!”

Ned smiled innocently. “I had no choice but to hide him, and I couldn’t tell anyone.”

“You made him believe he was a bastard,” Robb said angrily.

“It worked out for him,” Tyrion said coolly. “If he hadn’t been so mistreated, he would not be as kind as he is today.” He added with a nod towards Catelyn, “Jon mentioned you made him feel the worst,” he shrugged, “not that I blame you.”

“Who’s his father, then?” Robb asked. “A Targaryen?”

“Lyanna and Rhaegar,” Ned answered.

“Well,” Robb sighed, “at least he didn’t have the hair or the eyes.”

“Daenerys wasn’t so lucky,” Tyrion said, “which is why she spent her life exiled in Essos. Jon had the privilege of living in Winterfell, which is better than nothing.”

“Tell us about our children,” Catelyn cut in. “Where are they?”

Tyrion looked at Catelyn and deflated. “Sansa is Lady of Winterfell. After some failed marriages, she has chosen to lead by herself.”

Catelyn blinked several times. “That is not allowed.”

“I should acquaint you with the new laws,” Davos said. He launched into an explanation. “The only law Jon asked to be passed is for the word ‘bastard’ to be outlawed. There are only legitimate and illegitimate children. A legitimate heir still gets a fairer share, but the illegitimate children are not thrown to the wolves. They are not looked down upon, and are allowed to gain a highborn parent’s holdings if there are no legitimate heirs left. The second major law gives women more rights.” Davos did not miss the gleam in Talisa’s eyes. “Daenerys allows women to rule their land in the event a male heir does not want the position, or is not suited for it. She also does not require women to marry if they do not want to, and women get to choose their husbands. Women have dominion over the household, and can choose to punish her husband if he does something out of line. It’s a lovely system, if you ask me. No problems have arisen as of yet.”

Catelyn looked conflicted at the information, but Talisa smiled.

“Sounds lovely,” Talisa said, Robb sending her a neutral glance.

“This has allowed Sansa to rule Winterfell without issue,” Tyrion said. “As for Arya, she travels around Westeros and Essos. The last time I saw her, she married Gendry Baratheon.”

“I don’t know a Gendry,” Ned said confusedly.

“That’s why Davos explained the bastard situation,” Tyrion said.

“Ah,” Ned said. “I’m surprised Arya even married at all.”

“As am I,” Tyrion said, “but her and Gendry apparently go way back. Met when they were fairly young. I heard that she will be visiting King’s Landing, so you just may be in luck.”

“And our sons?” Catelyn prompted.

Tyrion frowned, looking remorseful. “Bran died during the Long Night, and Rickon was killed by the Boltons.”

Catelyn and Ned bowed their heads, and Robb frowned. Talisa took Robb’s hand, and it seemed to comfort him.

“Were they avenged?” Ned asked lowly.

“Oh, yes,” Tyrion replied. “Jon killed every Bolton and White Walker in sight.”

“Good,” Ned said shortly. “That will have to do.”

“Why weren’t they brought to life with me?” Robb dared to ask.

“That’s a good question,” Tyrion said, “but one we cannot answer.”

“I have one final thing to ask,” Ned said. “How did you defeat these...White Walkers?”

“There were three elders,” Davos explained. “One we called the Night King, and two commanders. I do not know the details of what occurred, but those three were killed, and the army fell into nothing.”

“They were connected to the elders,” Ned confirmed. “How interesting.”

“Now that we told you everything,” Tyrion asked, “what are you going to do?”

Ned sighed. “I need to speak to Jon.”

“Ned,” Catelyn warned, “what makes you think he will agree to see you, and listen?”

“I have to try,” Ned said. “Until Arya arrives, we need to speak with a Stark.”

“Jon is not a Stark,” Catelyn said.

“Close enough,” Robb interjected.

“If that is the route you wish to go,” Tyrion said, “you will have to go through his wife first.”

“Daenerys manages public relations with the people by allowing them to speak in open court every morning,” Davos informed them.

“In case you didn’t know,” Tyrion shrugged, “Jon isn’t a talker. He’s a brooder.”

Robb laughed, and it lightened the mood of the table. “You got that right.”

“Give it a try,” Tyrion suggested. “Davos and I need to return to the Red Keep.”

“That late already, eh?” Davos sighed. “We’ll leave you with some coins to stay at an inn.”

“Thank you,” Ned said.

Tyrion shook out coins from his belt and stood. Davos followed and said a kind goodbye. They left the inn, the foursome staying at the bar for a while.

————

Jon entered the tallest tower in the Red Keep. It was mid morning, and Daenerys was receiving common people in the throne room. He had a break in his day, so he went to the left tower. 

He found Ghost lying in a haystack bed, napping peacefully. The air was cool, and Jon knew Ghost preferred the cold rather than being cooped up in the heated castle below. Ghost’s red eyes settled on him when he entered, perking up and approaching.

Jon held out a hand, and Ghost sniffed it, nuzzling his fingers. “Hello, Ghost,” Jon murmured.

Ghost exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes, his tail dipping below his legs, brushing against the stone ground. He remained that way for several still seconds, then pulled back, withdrawing from the touch.

Jon strode towards the balcony, looking out over King’s Landing. The streets were bustling as if nothing ever happened, the sun shining especially bright despite the breeze.

Jon would never get used to seeing the sun shine.

A familiar deep exhale was heard on Jon’s left, and he smirked.

“Rhaegal,” Jon said, “you can come out now.”

The dragon’s giant head filled Jon’s vision, and if it did not seem so jovial, Jon would have been frightened. He hadn’t been afraid since that first time, when Drogon sniffed his hand at Dragonstone.

Rhaegal’s emerald scales glimmered in the sunlight, his eyes gazing at Jon in a kind manner.

“I knew you’d be here.”

Jon grinned, and spun on his feet. “Arya!”

Arya strode onto the balcony, smirking up at Rhaegal. “Hello, darling.”

Rhaegal’s tail swished behind him in a light flick. He bowed his head and allowed Arya to slide her fingers down his nose scales.

As if jealous, Drogon flew from the right to the left tower in a single wing beat. He stuck his head near Rhaegal, the brothers bunking heads fondly. Arya ran a hand down Drogon’s nose and laughed.

That’s when Jon glanced down, catching a slight bump on his little sister’s stomach.

His eyes widened. “Dany was right. You’re pregnant.”

Arya genuinely smiled, a glow about her face. She pulled back from the dragons, and they observed as her gaze fell uncertainly on Jon. “I am.”

“I always forget,” Jon said softly, “that you’re not my baby sister anymore.”

Arya nodded in understanding. “I forget that I’m not a girl playing with swords.”

“Have you told him yet?”

Arya snorted. “Were you waiting outside the door, Sansa?”

Jon brightened as his older sister made herself known. Her fiery hair had grown longer since they last saw one another, as long as his wife’s. She wore a deep purple gown that bared her arms, her gaze remaining sharp and vigilant.

“I was waiting for an introduction,” Sansa teased, her eyes observing the dragons nearby and going back to Jon. “I thought I should be there for Arya, if she insists upon journeying across Westeros in this condition.”

Arya raised an eyebrow. “I’ll worry when I grow larger,” she griped fondly.

“How’s Gendry?” Jon asked.

“Ask him yourself,” Arya said. “He’s getting settled in our rooms.”

“That will have to wait.”

Jon saw Daenerys standing near the entrance. Her face was abnormally pale, and she had lost her pregnancy glow.

Jon went to her, Ghost also trailing behind him in concern. He reached for her stomach, placing his hand there. “Is it the baby?”

“We’re both pregnant?” Arya smirked. “How delightful.”

“I have to keep making blankets,” Sansa muttered.

Daenerys smiled wanly at Jon and shook her head. “No. Something...happened. It concerns all of you.”

Sansa and Arya flanked Jon’s sides, Ghost burying his nose in Daenerys’ hand.

Daenerys said, “I have people claiming to be Starks. Your father, your mother, your oldest brother, and his wife.”

Jon’s hand tensed, and he removed it from Daenerys’ stomach. Sansa and Arya had recoiled beside him.

“That’s preposterous,” Sansa said.

“It’s a trick,” Arya said, “a trap.”

“The dead cannot rise in that way.” Sansa looked at Jon, her eyes wide. “Right, Jon?”

Jon shook his head numbly. “It’s not possible.”

“Robb did marry, though,” Arya recalled, “didn’t he?”

“Yes,” Sansa said, “but it can’t be them.”

“Are they still here?” Jon asked.

Sansa and Arya looked at Jon like he had grown dragon scales on his skin.

“You’re entertaining this?” Sansa asked incredulously.

“We’re some of the few people who remember their faces. The matter will be finished in only a moment,” Jon said.

“I moved them into the negotiation room,” Daenerys said. “I think we should be sure.”

Jon turned to Arya and Sansa. “You do not have to come.”

The sisters looked at each other.

Sansa said, “it is our family. We should all be there.”

————

“Must you always stress drink?” Missandei griped.

Tyrion sighed as he finished off a goblet of wine. “You don’t understand what just happened.”

“Explain it to me.” Missandei sat on the steps beside Tyrion, the Iron Throne sprawled behind them. “I should know about matters that concern my Queen.”

Tyrion said glumly, “as if the White Walkers weren’t enough, another supernatural happenstance has resulted in dead Starks returning from their graves. While these are good Starks, the implications are endless.”

“If they are truly good people,” Missandei said, “it is not an issue at all.”

“Oh, it is,” Tyrion said assuredly. “For our King, this is one of his nightmares come to life. That woman was a menace to Jon.”

“The mother?”

“Yes. She was more than cruel to Jon. It’s something I can relate to,” Tyrion said sourly.

“Sansa and Arya arrived just in time,” Missandei remarked.

Tyrion snorted out a laugh. “You got that right.”

————

“Okay,” Gendry’s eyes widened as he saw the Starks walking in formation, “what’s going on?”

Arya sighed. “It’s best you not get involved, Gen.”

Gendry looked at Jon. “You tell me.”

“Typical,” Arya muttered.

Jon said, “we have people claiming to be dead Starks.”

Gendry raised an eyebrow, holding back a laugh. “That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re right,” Jon said to Arya, “he shouldn’t get involved.”

Gendry frowned. “Fine. I’ll look for Nymeria, I guess.”

Having been banished, Gendry sauntered away in the opposite direction.

————

Jon, Sansa, and Arya immediately tensed when they entered the room.

Daenerys discerned their reaction to mean exactly what she had feared. She caught Jon’s eye and asked a silent question. He ducked his head, and she nodded, taking her leave.

It was Arya who took the first step forward, arms crossed and eyes furious. Four heads turned around in their chairs, eyes widening at Arya’s approach.

Arya rounded the table and sat as far away from them as possible. She kept her arms crossed around her stomach in a protective gesture. With narrowed eyes, she said, “I did not need this today.”

“Ari,” Ned said fondly.

“You’ve grown so much,” Robb cooed.

Arya sighed. “Am I doing this alone?”

Sansa approached next, sitting next to her younger sister. She drank in the sight of four dead Starks and focused on the stranger. “You must be Robb’s wife.”

The foreign woman nodded. “Talisa.”

“Sansa, Lady of Winterfell.” She lightly took Talisa’s hand and shook it quickly. “I want to apologize for all this. I know family drama is the last thing you wanted to be embroiled in.”

“It’s alright, Lady Stark,” Talisa said meekly.

Catelyn observed her daughter proudly. “What a fine young woman you’ve become.”

Arya snorted, and Sansa felt vaguely ill.

Her mother’s approval is no longer something she wanted.

Sansa remained silent, looking at the man behind the group. She teased, “for a Dragon King, you sure know how to tuck tail.”

Heavy steps trailed forward, imposing yet shy. Jon glided with a grace he had just begun to learn from Daenerys, his posture hinting at his authority. For a king, Jon was dressed down unless absolutely necessary. 

Jon lowered himself into the final seat, allowing Sansa to rest in the middle.

Jon did not miss how Catelyn’s eyes picked him apart like carrion birds. Even now, she hated him. Instead of shrinking and running away as he used to, he held himself admirably.

“Am I supposed to call you Your Highness?” Robb teased with a snicker.

“Fuck no,” Jon said unceremoniously. He noted Catelyn’s disgust and considered it a victory.

“Should you begin,” Sansa asked Jon, “or shall I?”

“You can begin,” Jon said courteously.

Sansa looked at her resurrected family mercilessly. “You can start by answering all the questions I have in my head.”

Ned said, “we do not know why we are here. We woke in the forests, then ran into Tyrion and...the man Davos. They told us everything, and told us to come here.”

“Is that all?” Arya frowned. “I was expecting something...better.”

Jon nodded in agreement. “Well, I thought this most definitely was a mistake. Gods,” he sighed, “this complicates things.”

“Maybe not,” Arya said.

Jon turned his head towards Arya. “People may not know their faces, but the dead rising? We haven’t had much luck with that.”

“Why would this be anything malicious?” Sansa asked. “If the gods wanted to be malicious, there would be another Long Night.”

Jon deflated. “You’re right. They need new identities.”

“I can arrange that,” Arya said ominously.

“Do I even want to know?” Jon asked Arya warily.

“No,” Arya said with an amused smirk.

“Okay. We have rooms to house them.” Jon asked, “Ari, can you bribe my workers?”

“I’ll make Gendry do it,” Arya replied. “He’ll keep the birds quiet.”

At the shocked expressions of the foursome, Sansa said, “the workers will like the extra pay. So what? Not illegal. Calm down.”

“Until we can secure identities,” Jon instructed, “you four can’t leave King’s Landing.”

Catelyn looked ready to protest out of spite, but Ned said, “we’re grateful for what you can do.”

————

Daenerys sat in the family room, perched by the roaring fireplace. She rested on the comfortable furs in a more maneuverable dress, not the kind she wore in open court. She was patching up holes in Daeron’s play clothing. Her boy always seemed to find himself caught in bushes and trapped in sticky situations. Since Daenerys could not remember a time when she was this happy and carefree as a child, she allowed Daeron to play to his heart’s content.

“Your stare is creating more holes,” Missandei said as she entered, sitting across from Daenerys. Missandei brought Daenerys’ children with her, Rhaella plopping beside her mother and Daeron bumbling around the room. Missandei examined the clothing and said, “I can help sew to quicken the process.”

Daenerys sighed. “I feel useless at this.”

“You’re not. You got,” Missandei counted, “three holes done. That’s better than last time.”

“You should tell Dae to be more careful,” Rhaella suggested.

“It’s alright, darling.” Daenerys smoothed out her daughter’s long braid. “He can play.”

“Play!” Daeron exclaimed, plopping on the furs near them. Daenerys reached her hand out and brushed it across his fat cheek. Daeron giggled, and Daenerys’ worries were alleviated.

Sansa entered, then, observing the scene and beaming. “I can teach you, my Queen.” She settled primly and elegantly beside Rhaella. “It would be an honor.”

“Shouldn’t you be making blankets for all the children to be born in the coming year?” Daenerys asked pointedly.

“That can wait,” Sansa said smoothly. “The trick is to sew in a wave.” She made a motion with her hands. “Stick the needle through one end, and pierce it from underneath on the opposite end.”

Daenerys did as Sansa instructed, and the next hole closed in a tighter cinch.

Daenerys grinned. “Thank you, Sansa.”

“Good job, Momma!” Rhaella exclaimed.

“Rhae should try,” Missandei suggested, the little girl perking up at the option.

“Rhae!” Daeron encouraged.

Daenerys skirted Daeron’s outfit towards Rhaella, who gathered it in her lap. Rhaella took the needle and thread carefully from Daenerys’ fingers. Daenerys guided her daughter in a soothing voice, and Rhaella patched a hole rather well.

“She’s a natural,” Sansa said proudly.

“I think Auntie wants you to help sew blankets,” Daenerys said to Rhaella.

Rhaella giggled, and Missandei beamed at the girl.

“Ari!” Daeron parroted.

The women followed Daeron’s gaze towards the doorway. Arya was there, guiding Talisa into the family room. The woman looked to be uncomfortable in a room of strangers, and her head was ducked low. She seemed to speak to Arya, though, which was a good sign.

Daenerys straightened her posture, catching Talisa’s eye. “Welcome. Don’t be shy.”

Talisa looked to Arya, and she nodded. She went to the furs where the women sat, and kept her distance. “I did not introduce myself formally. I’m Talisa Maegyr.”

“Volantis,” Daenerys recalled. 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“What brought you to Westeros?”

“I was a healer,” Talisa said. “I patched up wounded men in the Westerlands.”

Arya smirked, sitting beside Talisa. “I can see why Robb liked that.”

“You must have looked like an angel,” Sansa said, “healing him from above.”

Talisa’s dark skin turned a shade pinker. “I wouldn’t know, my Lady.”

“There’s no need for formalities,” Daenerys said kindly. “Allow me to introduce Missandei,” she gestured to the woman across from her, “my handmaiden and advisor. This is my daughter,” Daenerys brushed her hand across the girl’s messy braid, “Rhaella. Over there is my son,” the boy perked up and beamed from his position beside Missandei, “Daeron.”

“What shall I call you?” Talisa asked hesitantly.

“Daenerys is just fine,” she replied.

“And Sansa is fine with me,” Sansa confirmed. “I only make men call me their Lady.”

The women snickered, Talisa letting loose a soft laugh.

————

“I’ll take care of it,” Gendry said to Jon. “Try not to worry.”

“Gen,” Jon said fondly, “you’re smithing a dilapidated sword when you’re supposed to be with Nymeria.”

Gendry winced, looking down at the curved blade. “Nymeria is a capable direwolf, like Ghost. She’s fine in the forests.” He shrugged and let go of his hammer, picking up the hilt. “It could work as a machete. I stand by my stress smithing.”

Jon sighed. “How did you get the blacksmith to leave his post so you could be here?”

“The Iron Bank, duh. The Baratheon fortune is a true gift from the gods.”

Jon said, “I think you’re worried about Ari. It’s your first child together. I went through the same thing.”

“Only Daenerys was pregnant during the Long Night, so you had every single reason to be afraid for Rhaella’s life. You’re forgetting the obvious,” Gendry murmured, setting down the machete.

Jon shifted his feet. “I don’t know what to do about it either.”

“It’s not every day some dead Starks show up. As long as there’s no Baratheons coming to reclaim their land, I’m all good.”

“Lucky you,” Jon mumbled.

“I saw Ari speaking with the woman.”

“Talisa?”

“Yes.”

“Women will do what they will.”

“I know it,” Gendry said.

Jon clapped Gendry’s shoulder. “Try not to sear off any fingers.”

Gendry recoiled once he saw his hand near the heated blade. “Right.”

Jon chuckled on the way out.

————

Catelyn had daggers for eyes once she found the family room.

Daenerys, to her credit, looked upon the older woman and smiled. “You may come in.”

Catelyn entered uncertainly, taking in the contents of the room. The absence of men was clearly strange to her.

Her eyes settled on the girl and boy beside the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. “Are they yours, Your Highness?” Catelyn asked softly.

“They are.” Daenerys wore a neutral mask, but the fear she did not show was in Missandei’s gaze.

Catelyn instead shifted her eyes towards Talisa, who wore a small smile. “Doing alright, dear?”

Talisa nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Sansa? Arya?” Catelyn looked at her daughters, both of them uncomfortable. “Are you doing alright here?”

“Yes,” Sansa said shortly.

“Of course,” Arya replied.

“Good.” Catelyn turned sharply towards the door just as Gendry appeared.

“Ari?” He stuck his head inside. “There you are. It’s done.”

Arya nodded. “You can come in.”

“Aren’t I,” Gendry asked, “interrupting?”

“You’re just in time,” Arya said coolly, “unless you think being in the company of women would hurt your masculine ideals.”

Missandei covered her mouth with her hand and laughed. Sansa smirked in reaction, and Daenerys looked as cool as a southern summer night.

Gendry was obviously used to such remarks with his wife, and merely shrugged upon entering the family room.

“Talisa,” Arya said, “this is my husband, Gendry Baratheon. Gen, this is my brother Robb’s wife, Talisa Maegyr.”

Talisa looked up as Gendry sat beside his wife. Gendry locked eyes and said, “you look to be from Essos.”

“Volantis,” Talisa said. “Where are you from?”

“Here. King’s Landing,” Gendry said. “From blacksmith to lord. Though I don’t like being called a lord.” He wrinkled his nose. “It’s weird.”

“From healer to lady,” Talisa said with a shrug. “It’s strange for me too.”

Gendry finally realized he was being stared at, and tilted his head towards the older woman.

“Oh,” Arya said absently, “that’s my mother.”

Gendry’s eyes widened. “You could have mentioned that, Ari!”

Arya smirked.

“You look just like him,” Catelyn said incredulously.

“Who? My father?” Gendry shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”

“You aren’t missing much,” Catelyn quipped.

Gendry smiled wanly. “Good to know.”

“Gen!” Daeron exclaimed, the first peep out of him in a while.

“Hey, buddy,” Gendry said happily. He looked at Daenerys. “May I?”

“You need practice,” Daenerys said. “You may.”

“Come here,” Gendry said, holding out his arms.

Daeron grinned, standing shakily on his toddler legs. Gendry beamed, and watched the boy walk the short distance towards him. Daeron giggled and, once close enough, fell into Gendry’s arms.

“Good job!” Gendry cooed, grinning and setting Daeron in his lap.

The sight somehow made Catelyn less combative, and she decided to sit on the couch. Closer, but far enough away from the women on the furs.

Arya tossed some of the play clothes fabric towards Gendry. “Hold this while we sew.”

“We?”

Arya narrowed her eyes.

Gendry backed down and held the fabric with his free hand.

————

Jon reached the forest clearing and whistled loudly.

In a few wing beats, Rhaegal and Drogon joined him, perched across from him. Jon held up a hand, then pointed to the gathering of animal meats his men had carried to the clearing.

The dragons feasted, and Jon saw a figure burst through the trees.

Jon smiled at Arya’s direwolf. “Nymeria. I was wondering where you’ve been.”

The direwolf recognized Jon and approached, tipping its head downwards. Jon brushed his fingers along Nymeria’s muzzle, then the direwolf stepped back.

Ghost had arrived from his bed at the Red Keep, approaching his sister. The two direwolves ducked their heads and stood close to one another. They sniffed and bowed their heads in acknowledgment.

Jon decided to sit, observing the dragons play fight with their food. The direwolves lingered to his left, watching with blood red eyes.

Other figures arrived from behind him. Jon turned around and saw Ned and Robb. The two men had clearly been looking for him. Jon wondered if they guessed where he might be, or if they asked someone.

The two Stark men saw the dragons and froze in their places. They glanced warily at the two direwolves, wondering why they were not afraid.

Jon couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “I was scared of them the first time too.”

“Like a normal person?” Robb teased.

Jon inclined his head. “The black one is Drogon, and the green one is Rhaegal.”

“Are those direwolves the same litter?” Ned asked incredulously.

“Yes. That’s Ghost and Nymeria,” Jon replied.

Robb observed Ghost closely. “He’s no longer the runt, is he?”

“No,” Jon said, “he’s not.”

A breeze swept through the trees suddenly, brushing the leaves and filling their eardrums.

When it settled, Ned asked, “do you hate me?”

Jon thought for a moment, then shook his head. “You were trying to protect me. I understand.”

“How did you find out?”

Jon thought again, debating whether to tell them. Then, he said, “my friend Samwell Tarly. We met at the Wall, and he chose to train as a Maester in Oldtown. He made the pilgrimage to Winterfell to tell me he found the birth record.” He added absently, “he’s back in Oldtown with his wife and son now.”

Ned sat on the thrush floor, Robb hanging back and sitting by a tree trunk. “Did you love her before, or after?”

“Before.”

“And she loved a Snow?”

“Yes,” Jon said, “she did not care about titles. That’s when I knew I could trust her.”

“Can you tell me everything,” Ned asked, “from the beginning?”

Robb moved forward, listening closely.

Jon sighed. “If that’s something you want to hear.”

“We’ve never seen White Walkers,” Robb said. “We’ve never survived the Long Night.”

“We want to understand,” Ned clarified. “It’s clear to me that Robert’s Rebellion was nothing compared to this.”

Jon paused, turning his head. Ghost and Nymeria had settled nearer to him, Ghost’s head near his legs. The dragons had finished their feast and were now splayed out along the clearing.

“I spent a good deal of time at the Wall,” Jon began, turning his head back towards Ned and Robb. “The Lord Commander thought I was a good soldier and started priming me for leadership. We were on a mission one day and wildlings attacked. They killed him, and took me beyond the Wall as a prisoner. I saw their camps and I saw how happy they all were, even though they had nothing. I couldn’t be mad at them, and I realized it was our faults for hunting them. I befriended their king, Tormund. You may have seen him around.”

“At the bar,” Ned recalled, “I remember.”

“I made an alliance with the wildlings,” Jon continued, “and they allowed me to return to the Wall. They named me Lord Commander. I tried to make them see reason with the wildlings, but beliefs are hard to break. The wildlings and the crows fought. Tormund, Samwell, and I are the only three alive today.” Jon looked haunted. “After the battle, they killed me.”

Ned and Robb recoiled.

“It was alright. I wanted to die. If I think hard enough, I can remember all the knives cutting through me. They thought I was a traitor. They hated me. Only a few friends of mine were brave enough to secure my body. That night, a priestess arrived at the Wall. I don’t know what she did, but I’m alive.” Jon touched his chest. “I have a scar along my heart.”

“And this is before...everything else?” Robb exhaled deeply. “Wow.”

“The White Walkers started truly arriving when I escaped the Wall. I went to Winterfell, only to find that the Bolton family had taken control. I came in contact with Sansa, who finally escaped the south after years of pain. She had gotten the allegiance of several armies on her way north, and I helped her gather more men. We won the battle against the Boltons, but we wouldn’t have without Sansa. The north decided to make me king, though it was not what I wanted. I knew it was what Sansa wanted, but nothing could be done at the time. I...actually, I did see the White Walkers before. That’s right.” Jon sighed. “Things are starting to get...nonlinear. I saw the White Walkers as a crow. I looked into their king’s eyes as we retreated.” Jon shivered. “It’s one of those images you can never forget.”

“What do they look like?” Robb asked, on pins and needles.

“Rotting dead men. If they were old enough,” Jon said, “you could see their bones. They all had blue eyes, like ice. They looked right through you. The king and his commanders were different. They were made from the ice itself.”

Robb made a face. “Ugh.”

“Agreed,” Ned said.

“Where was I? Oh. King in the North.” Jon continued, “I appointed Davos as my Hand. I heard you met him.”

“Yes. He worked for the Baratheons?” Ned inquired.

“Yes,” Jon replied. “He actually kept Gendry Baratheon hidden until he could reclaim the fortune.”

“Is he Arya’s husband?” Robb asked.

“Indeed. Apparently they met years before I met him,” Jon said. “Anyhow, where was I?”

“You’re king,” Robb said.

“Right.” Jon said, “the White Walkers were marching towards Winterfell, and Samwell discovered that dragonglass could kill them. I heard that Daenerys had just reclaimed Dragonstone, so I travelled there to make a deal. Imagine my surprise when I saw Tyrion Lannister aligned with a Targaryen.”

Ned snorted out a laugh.

Jon continued, “the first intimidation tactic I received was when three dragons flew over my head.” He cracked a smile.

“But there’s two,” Robb pointed out.

“One died during a confrontation with White Walkers,” Jon said sadly.

“Continue,” Robb encouraged.

“I met Daenerys,” Jon said, “and we got off to a strange start. Suffice it to say, I eventually got to mine dragonglass. However, Daenerys and I were also dealing with Cersei, who had gone mad with power. The Mad Queen, indeed. She wanted us to travel south and swear fealty. We used the White Walkers to our advantage. We made a plan to go beyond the Wall and capture one, to show Cersei that petty squabbles could wait. Since I was the only one who had seen them and survived several times, I had to go and capture it myself. Davos brought me Gendry, who decided to come once we became friends within a minute.”

Ned smiled. “The Stark-Baratheon friendship continues.”

“Tormund and my other men went with me,” Jon said. “We went beyond the Wall and managed to capture one, but at a great cost. It was actually Daenerys that saved us. I was incredibly surprised, then, that she would risk her life for me.”

Robb grinned. “The most beautiful woman in Westeros and Essos loved you before you loved her?” He barked out a laugh. “Wow.”

“Once she saved me,” Jon said, “I instead swore fealty to her.” He shrugged. “It was the least I could do, really. We went south with the White Walker, and Cersei said she would help. She didn’t, but her lie spurred many of her men to come to our side. We travelled to Winterfell, where I had Sansa leading like she always wanted. We got reports of the Wall being destroyed.”

“Completely?!” Ned exclaimed.

“Completely,” Jon confirmed gravely. “And since love and war do not mix, we had our next issue. White Walkers destroyed the north, and to be truthful, I do not know how I survived it. We then got ravens saying winter has come in the south. We had no choice but to go there. That’s when the Long Night began. Daenerys was pregnant, and I remember being more terrified than ever. More terrified than I was when I stared into the Night King’s eyes. I watched people die every day, and I knew that the chances of the baby surviving were low. That made me want to end it faster than ever. The White Walkers took everything I ever knew, and I wouldn’t let them take my daughter.”

“Is she here?” Ned asked softly.

“Yes,” Jon said. “She was the only child that lived through the Long Night. During the Long Night, that’s when the final battle began. I won’t go into specifics, but I faced the Night King again. I did not want to die anymore, and somehow, that made me stronger. I won, and with everyone’s help, we ended it. Everyone who survived picked up the pieces, and a new reign began.”

“That’s quite a story,” Ned mused.

“Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jon asked.

“It’s what we needed to hear,” Robb said.

————

Jon thought he was dreaming when he walked into the family room.

All the people he cared about were in the room, save for a few friends. 

When he was noticed, the jovial air simmered down. Jon heard Ned and Robb trail a pace behind him, and realized the majority of each gaze were on them.

“Phew,” Gendry said, “I can finally be more than a holder.”

Jon found himself smiling wide, holding back a loud cackle. “That’s quite a predicament you’re in, Gen.”

“Dada!” Daeron exclaimed, holding up an arm.

“Dae,” Jon leaned down and fixed the boy’s soft hair, “doing good?”

“Yah!”

Jon heard a few chuckles, and grinned himself. He observed his daughter concentrating intently on Daeron’s messy play clothes. He crouched between Daenerys and Rhaella, watching his daughter sew up the final hole. “Is she,” Jon stared incredulously at Daenerys, “a prodigy?”

Daenerys replied, “Sansa is having a great time with this knowledge.”

Jon saw Sansa’s smirk and said, “she’s happy because she doesn’t have to make baby blankets herself.”

Sansa winked in affirmation.

“Have you had time to think?” Arya asked.

“Some,” Jon said, “but I need to speak with my wife later.”

“Do it now,” Sansa said. “We can watch the children.”

“Sure?” Jon asked warily.

“There’s a lot of people in here,” Missandei said. “I don’t think they’ll disappear on us.”

“Just you wait,” Daenerys said warily.

Jon stood, offering a hand to Daenerys. As expected, she did not need it, choosing to stand herself.

The women all snickered.

“Chivalry,” Jon said pointedly.

Daenerys and Jon left the family room together, going down an empty hall.

As if it was planned, Tyrion found them, a goblet of wine in his hands. Instead of stopping to speak to them, he held up the goblet in a salute and scurried away.

Daenerys sighed and crossed her arms. “The decision is yours.”

“Dany,” Jon said, “how long do you think we can keep them here?”

Daenerys shrugged. “A few full moons.”

“I think we should set them up in the Stormlands,” Jon said. “The Baratheon household is practically barren, with Gendry and Arya traveling so often.”

“Arya will need help with the baby.” Daenerys nodded slowly. “It could work. What did you need me for?”

Jon smiled softly, bringing his hand to her cheek. He brushed back a section of tightly-wound braids and hovered his palm over her skin. “I wanted to see how you were amidst chaos, my Queen.”

Daenerys exhaled through her nose, batting her eyelashes. “I feel...strange, being here.”

“So do I,” Jon admitted.

Daenerys murmured, “truly?”

“Truly.” Jon whispered, “this isn’t my family. Not really. You are.”

Daenerys tilted her head, her cheek meeting Jon’s palm. “I feel the same.”

“Do you agree with me? Placing them with the Baratheons?”

“I do.”

Jon sighed. “Okay. We should tell them.”

“Wait.” Daenerys closed her eyes, leaning into Jon’s touch. “I need a minute.”

Jon hummed. “You should have come into the forest with me. Your dragons miss you.”

“Would if I could. I will soon.”

Jon thought Daenerys suddenly looked so beautiful he couldn’t help but blurt, “I love you.”

Daenerys’ eyes fluttered open. She placed her hand on Jon’s palm and murmured, “I love you too.”

Jon placed his opposite hand on Daenerys’ stomach. “Name her Lyanna.”

Daenerys smiled. “Really?”

“Yes. I have been told my mother was fierce and brave. It would be a strong name, if Lyanna Mormont is any indication.”

“That girl is wonderful,” Daenerys agreed. “Thank you.”

Jon removed his hand from Daenerys’ stomach. “Need another minute?”

Rather than answering, Daenerys stood on her tiptoes, leaning forward. Her lips brushed Jon’s, and he matured the kiss. He cradled her cheeks until she lowered her stance, pulling back.

“I’m good now,” Daenerys murmured.

Jon slipped his hands away from Daenerys’ face, and smoothed her braid back into place. Jon lead the way, Daenerys falling into step beside him.

Jon once again took in the picture the family room presented, and opened his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
